The Resurrection of Sammy Winchester
by staceycj
Summary: The journey of retrieving Sam's soul.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I know that Jared is going to wow us to no end with his lack of soul issue this season, but being a fan, I just can't leave Sam so unSamlike. so, I'm fixing it. And those who read my stuff know it won't be easy. Enjoy!

* * *

They were all there, all that truly loved and cared for Sam Winchester: Dean and Bobby, and Castiel was on the way. Castiel was the one who would deliver the son of a bitch who had imprisoned Sam's soul, kept it from returning to Earth with his body, leaving him the shell of the man he was, leaving him without his moral compass, leaving him without his emotions, leaving him without the essence that was Sam.

Dean's fingers itched with the desire to punch the shit out of the angel/demon/spirit/general asshole or whatever was keeping his brother's soul in the pit, keeping it with Lucifer and Michael and making him suffer tortures that had to be far greater than any Dean had suffered, and that made him want to kill something, hit something, maim something, do something violent to whatever had kept his brother in the pit with those two sons of bitches.

A sound of wings and a small breath of air made Bobby, Sam and Dean turn to face the angel.

"So?"

"The hold on the soul is gone."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I destroyed the angel who did this to you Sam."

"An angel did it?"

"Yes. An angel that has fallen, an angel who thought that he could harness the energy of your soul, because the soul of a Winchester has a lot of energy to harness, but when your soul proved too difficult to tame, he threw it back into the cage, where he thought no one would notice."

"That angel obviously hasn't met Dean." Bobby grumbled.

"Most true." Castiel nodded.

"So, my soul is where then?" Sam asked mechanically.

"In hell."

Dean stepped up closer to Castiel, and Castiel forced the desire to move away down deep. Dean was the only human on the face of the Earth whose anger could make Castiel want to back up and away. "Why isn't it with you? I thought you were going to take care of that son of a bitch and bring Sam's soul back and fix this." Dean asked clearly angered by the news.

"I had to dispatch of the angel first. And I thought it best that I report back to you before I go back into hell and retrieve Sam's soul. Because when I bring it back…"

"It will be scary and painful." Dean said, eyes focused somewhere internal, a place he didn't wish to remember.

"Yes." Castiel said simply. "I thought it best to give Sam a warning and time to prepare to receive his soul back into his body."

Sam nodded. "Thank you." Castiel nodded back.

"So, how long will this take?" Bobby asked.

"It took me two Earth days to go to and locate Dean's soul and bring it back. I know where Sam's soul is, so it will take only several minutes, but I fear that when Sam's soul returns, it will be…"

"A mess." Dean said. His voice barely audible.

"Yes. Sam has been tortured for…"

"100 years…a little more." Dean said, doing what he could to keep the tears at bay. This was hard for him. He ran a hand down his face and then through his hair. He started to pace. He'd been tortured and done torturing for forty years, and that had left him in shambles, had left him broken, tired, scared, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to live. His Sammy had been tortured far longer and by a man much more skilled than Alistair ever hoped to be. Dean swallowed and then looked at Castiel. "Get him home Cass." Castiel nodded, put a hand on Dean's shoulder, then looked at Sam.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah." He said casually. Castiel disappeared. Dean escorted Sam to the bed they made up for him, not in the panic room, but in an actual bed, upstairs, somewhere comfortable, and where the faces of loved ones would surround him.

Dean couldn't sit down while they waited, he paced the length of the bed, never leaving the perimeter of it, always keeping on eye on the form of his brother, but the nervous energy he had swimming though his veins just wouldn't allow him to sit down, wouldn't allow any form of stillness to take him over. Bobby sat just at the head of the bed on Sam's right with his shotgun lying across his lap prepared for any evil thing that might try to hitch a ride on Cass' trench coat.

When the process began it startled them all, they heard something pop, then they saw Castiel, ruffled and rumpled, standing on the left of Sam, hand on his left shoulder, and then they heard it, they heard the intake of breath, and a wail that could curdle blood. Dean rushed to his brother, put a hand on his chest, green eyes as wild as the hazel eyes that were searching and unfocused.

Sammy caught his breath only long enough to scream again, wordless, and at the end soundless. He started to shake, shake so hard that it made Dean and Bobby flash back to the time in the panic room when a detoxing Sam was seizing on the cold hard floor.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. Dean kneeled on the bed next to his brother. Bobby stood up and stood behind Dean. "Sammy! It's me! Sammy, you're okay! You're okay!" Dean shouted trying to get through to his little brother, trying to cut through the panic and confusion. "Sammy, you're at Bobby's. You're okay, you're with us. Bobby is here, Cass is here. You're okay. You're okay." Dean said trying to calm him down, and finally the soundless screaming stopped, but the wild hazel eyes stayed wild and Sam pushed away from Dean, pushed away from Bobby, and drew his legs up to his mouth, and he held them tightly.

"It's not real. Nothing's real. It's all a trick."

Dean's heart sunk. Maybe they were too late.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This is officially AU since last night's episode. But didn't it rock last night? I so wasn't anticipating that twist!

* * *

Dean battened down the hatches so to speak, and he kicked everyone out of the room. He was going to bring his brother back to him, he was going to make him see that what was before him was real, not another elaborate trick designed by Lucifer to torture and to harm.

"Sammy." He said as he closed the curtains in the room. "Sammy." He tried again turning to his brother. Sam's eyes darted from Dean's form the moment he realized that Dean was looking at him. Dean stayed rooted in his spot. Because, people coming at you, whether it's one or twenty, make you jumpy right after you pop our of the hot box.

"You aren't Dean." Sam finally said.

"I am. It's me Sammy, in the flesh."

"Lucifer has tried this trick before. It won't work this time."

"What happened in the trick the last time?" Dean asked calmly trying desperately to figure out a way to cut through the fear and the panic to get to Sam long enough to establish that he is in fact topside, and that he was really…well him.

Sam tightened the ball he had made out of himself and shook his head quickly once, and then did it again, and then he put his forehead against his knees and rocked himself a little.

"No. No. No. huh-uh. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not helping you trick me."

Dean closed is eyes and prayed to God for a way to help his brother. He opened his eyes and saw Sammy's eyes peeking out from over his knees. "Sam. You've been topside for almost two years, your body has been safe and sound with me for a year. I want you to think, that big brain is full of memories of the last year. Try to get to them."

"Memories can be planted. They can be made to serve your purposes."

The sarcastic answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say, and for one of the first times in his life he actually used caution when speaking. "Sammy, this isn't a trick. I can't plant memories, I can't wipe memories, I am just a man. I'm just your brother."

Sam started to shake, it was a small vibration, imperceptible to someone who hadn't lived with Sam his entire life. But Dean saw it, saw that Sam's anxiety level was rising, Dean didn't know how to lower it, didn't know how to make Sam feel better.

"Hell is scary." Dean tried. "I can't even imagine what your time with Lucifer was like. But I understand the disorientation when you get back, I was so scared that you were just one more illusion that would rip me apart when I saw you for that first time. It took me a while to fully accept that you were real, that I was real, that Bobby was real, that the car was actually my car and not something that would fold in on me and eat me whole."

"They did that to you too?" Dean's eyebrows almost met his hairline with surprise, and he made the drastic mistake of moving closer to Sam too quickly. Sam screamed loud. And scrambled onto the floor and used the bed as a fort to keep Dean at bay. Dean cursed himself.

"Sammy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Go away! Go away!" Sam screamed. "Lucifer! I know what you're trying to do! It isn't going to work! I won't break! I won't! I won't start the apocalypse again! You may have tricked Dean and me once! But it won't happen this time!" And Sam honest to God whimpered. And that sound made Dean's knees weak and his heart physically hurt, Sam hadn't made that noise in a long time, long before he became the ginormous man in front of him, long before he knew what monsters were, and that noise being pulled from his 29 year old brother made Dean's insides twist and turn. Dean closed his eyes and bit his cheeks, and did his absolute best to keep himself from crying.

"Sammy, it's really me." Dean said softly. Not only didn't he want to scare his little brother any more than he already was with his loud powerful gruff voice, but he also didn't trust his voice enough not to crack when he spoke.

"No. No. It's not. No! My brother is fine. My brother is safe! My brother…" and tears started to track down Sam's face. "My brother is topside! He's not stuck here….please…please…don't hurt me. Please quit using his face." And Sam's face crumpled and the tears free flowed down his face.

Dean, licked his lips, looked up trying to keep the tears in his eyes, and ran a hand down his face. He swallowed thickly.

"Okay, okay Sammy. I'll go, just for a little bit. You'll be safe in here. I promise, no one will hurt you…"

"GO AWAY!" Sam shouted with all of what was left of his voice. His hands digging into the bedding.

"I'm just going to go to the door." He said and put his hands up in the _I'm harmless_ gesture. Dean slowly moved around the bed, and as he did Sam scrambled on top of the bed. And then when Dean got to the other side of the bed, Sam was on the floor peeking from the other side of the bed.

Dean turned away from Sam and went out of the door, and as soon as his left foot was over the threshold of the door he heard Sam scrambling up on the hardwood floor, and as soon as Dean's right foot was over the threshold, the door slammed behind him, and then the frantic process of shoving furniture against the shut door began. Dean leaned against the wall, felt the dresser being shoved against the door, and slid down into a crouch, and put his own head in between his knees, and pulled at his hair.

"God help him." Dean mumbled as tears started to flow.


	3. Chapter 3

"How's he doing?" Castiel asked as he entered the room unannounced and unexpected. Bobby had a silver knife at his throat before he could say the word 'he' but Castiel was unfazed by the grisly hunter's reaction.

"Damnit Castiel! Get a bell. Sneaking up on people is likely to get your vessel's throat cut."

"That would be unfortunate."

"Damn right."

"How is he?" Castiel repeated his initial question.

"Sam or Dean?" Bobby asked as he went back to chopping carrots. Castiel cocked his head.

"Sam."

"He's still got himself all up in there barricaded. Every time Dean says something he screams at him to go away, that he ain't real, that this is all a trick. Dean on the other hand, hasn't moved from the door except when I make him go pee."

"Dean needs to take care of himself."

"I agree. But, you know Dean…"

"Sam first."

"Always."

"I will go up and check on them." And before Bobby could say boo Castiel was gone.

"Damn angel. I'm buying him a bell, that's the long and short of it." Bobby grumbled and continued to fix food for Sam, whom Bobby was fairly certain wouldn't eat any of it. But, Dean was in full mother mode, and you didn't cross him when he was like that, and if he said chop carrots and apples for Sam, then by God that's what you did, and didn't ask any fool questions either. Truth of it all was really that Bobby wanted to do something, anything, to help the boy all locked up in that room, and if this would help, then he'd chop up every carrot and apple in the damn country.

SNSNSNSNSN

Castiel appeared in front of Dean, and Dean didn't seem at all phased by the angel's sudden appearance.

"Hey Cass." Dean said softly.

"How is he?"

"Scared, disoriented, a wreck." Dean said and rubbed his hand down the length of his tired face.

"You have been sitting here for the last two days?" Dan nodded.

"I'll stay right here until he comes out."

"Would you like me to get inside and move his barricades so you can get to him?"

"Nah." Dean looked up from the finger he had been picking at, and shook his head at Cass. "He's been violated enough. I'm fine. He'll be fine." Dean said softly, watching the blood rise to the surface of the finger he had just caused to bleed.

"If anything is needed…"

"I'll call Cass." Castiel nodded and was about to disappear when Dean said. "Thanks for bringing him back to me."

"You're welcome." And in a puff of air the angel was gone, and Dean sighed.

SNSNSNSNSN

Bobby came up the stairs later with the food that Dean had asked for, he handed it to the younger man, and Dean looked down at the plate. "He made any mumblings?" Bobby asked making Dean turn his blood shot tired eyes to the elder hunter.

"Just the usual periodic screams. I think that only happens when he falls asleep."

Bobby looked at the door his heart ached for the young man whom he regarded as a son. "What are we going to do?" Bobby asked. Dean shrugged and sighed again.

"The most I can do is try to get through to him, try to access what is Sam, and try to break through his panic. He thinks this is all fake, he thinks this is all another trick to get him to break. He thinks that Lucifer is trying to get him to break a seal like me."

"How do you know?"

"When he screams, that's what he screams about." Bobby nodded. Dean looked back down at the food and tapped the side of the plate with a hand. "Thanks for preparing this. I'm going to try again. See if I can get him to unbarricade himself long enough for me to get some food in his stomach."

"You need help?"

"No. No. Thanks Bobby. I got this."

"You need somethin', anythin' you just holler, y'hear?" Bobby asked.

"I hear. I promise. I will. Thanks." Bobby nodded and slowly turned and walked down the stairs taking moments to turn and look back at the man who looked like a little boy, scared and bewildered.

Dean turned to the door and knocked. "Sammy. It's me." Quiet on the other side. "Sammy. It's me. Dean. You have to be hungry, you haven't eaten in two days." Silence.

"Sammy, can you please unbarricade the door?"

"You aren't Dean." He heard whispered from just the other side of the barricade.

Dean turned and slid back down against the door and rested his head on it. "It's me Sammy. You know I would come for you. It's my job. I'm supposed to protect you."

Silence.

"You can't be Dean." The voice sounded less sure this time.

"Why?"

"Because Dean promised me to go and live with Ben and Lisa and make a life for himself. Dean is loyal to family."

"I did go and live with Ben and Lisa. You'll remember, if you let yourself. Sammy. You came and got me. You needed me to fix you. And I left them. I had to. I had to protect them from our lives. If you just let yourself remember, you'll know what I'm saying is true."

Silence. And this time the silence went on for a long time. Dean figured he'd lost the battle again. This was the first time since being kicked out of the room that Sam had spoken to him, rationally, well as rationally as Sam could right now, and he'd screwed it up again. "Because that's what you do Dean, you screw everything up." He mumbled and sighed.

"I remember." The voice said thinly.

"Can I come in?"

"Are you alone?"

"I'm alone."

"How do I know you aren't possessed?"

"I'll do whatever test you want. I'll eat sixteen bacon cheeseburgers if that makes you feel like that will prove that it's me. Whatever you want Sammy. I'll do it."

Dean heard things shuffle and scrape across the wood floor and then the door opened just a little, Dean started to stand up and realized that Sam was on the floor peeking out through the crack he made. Dean sat back down Indian style and looked at his little brother's frantic eye.

"I've got food for you. You have to be hungry." Sam opened the door a little wider never taking his eyes off of Dean. Finally the door was opened far enough for Dean to see his brother's face, and a hand darted out and grabbed the plate. Sam looked down at the food and then at Dean. He grabbed a handful and threw it into his mouth.

"Textures when you get back from hell are interesting. I had Bobby chop up carrots and apples, because those two foods are the easiest to eat when you get back." Sam didn't care. He simply ate and watched Dean with hawk-like eyes. While Dean's heart was lifted at the sight of his brother eating, it was crushed. Sam was a mess, hair slick with oil and sweat, face drawn and scared, and the smell wafting out of the room would have knocked a lesser man off of his feet.

"I'm so sorry Sammy." Dean whispered to the man who was shoveling food into his mouth with a hand. As soon as the food was gone, Sam threw the plate at Dean, and slammed the door, severing connection. Then the sounds of furniture being placed back against the door filled the hallway and Dean hung his head.


	4. Chapter 4

It was another two days before Dean saw his brother again, and this time it was Sam who initiated contact. He opened the door and like a terrified animal peered out. Dean scrambled to turn and on all fours, with his most non-threatening look on his face he greeted Sam's terrified eyes.

"Sammy?"

"Hungry." Sam's voice was small and tired. Dean licked his lips and turned back to the little nest he had made for himself and took the candy bar that he had laying on floor beside the cushion his had been sitting on and thrust it towards his brother.

"Here, it's not the kind you like, well, not your favorite anyway, but it's all I got." Sam snatched the candy from Dean's hand and he was about to slam the door when Dean stuck is hand out and tried to catch the door before it slammed, but he was too late and the door slammed on two of his fingers and Dean let out a blood curdling scream.

"God!" he screamed and jerked his hand back. Blood was dripping from where he once had had fingernails. The door opened again just a little.

"Dean?" he asked quietly. Dean was too busy ripping his shirt and putting the ends around his bleeding fingers to see that his brother had opened the door. "Dean?" Sam asked again. Dean was in such pain that all he could hear was the blood rushing in his own ears. He was shredding his shirt and wrapping it around the fingers that pulsed painfully with every beat of his heart.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, and when Dean seemingly didn't hear him, he opened the door a little further, and then he reached out, shakily and touched Dean on the shoulder. Dean turned quickly, startled, he stopped wrapping part of his shirt around his hand and looked at his brother.

"Sam?" he asked. Sam crawled out of the room enough to take Dean's hand, and he took the bandage from him and began to wind it around his brother's hand gingerly.

"This is new. Lucifer never lets you get hurt. He always makes sure I get hurt, he never lets me comfort you."

"Because it is me Sammy. I'm not something Lucifer made."

"Usually he has you torture me, he gets me to trust you, gets me comfortable, and then he has you torture me. This is new. I didn't know that his phantoms could bleed. You're bleeding pretty good."

"People bleed Sammy."

"People bleed a lot in Hell, a whole lot. But never you. Always me, always the other souls, but you never bleed. And no one ever says…" Sam swallowed thickly. "God." He finally whispered. "No one ever says that."

"It's really me Sammy. I promise."

"You say that every single time. And I believe you and then you rip me apart, and then Lucifer laughs."

"No one is going to laugh here Sammy. This is real blood. It's really my blood, because it is me."

Sam looked at him as a child looks at an adult trying to figure out if the adult is telling the truth or giving them an answer that is nothing but platitudes and lies. Sam licked his lips and looked back down at the fingers he was wrapping in shredded shirt.

"Dad trained us to do this for each other." Sam said absently.

"He did. He taught us that we were each other's best back up." Dean added cautiously.

"We used to be." Sam licked his lips.

"Yeah, we did." Dean nodded and watched as Sam tied the bandage off. Sam's hands hesitated for a minute before he released Dean's hand.

"I'm worried that you're real."

"Why?"

"Because if you are….I haven't been good to you in the last year, I remember things, I've said things….I wasn't there, but they are my memories."

"Sam, we'll figure that out later." Sam nodded and tears came to his eyes.

"Dean, am I really here? Am I really not in hell anymore?"

Dean swallowed hard, and when he spoke his voice cracked, "You aren't in hell anymore Sammy. You're here, safe with me, and Bobby and Cass." Sam nodded and tears fell in a free flow down his long face, and Dean resisted the urge to pull him close, and hug him more fiercely then he ever had before.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled away from Sam, continuing contact, but pulling away enough so he could see his little brother's eyes, and those eyes were brimming with tears. Dean had to deflect the sadness, had to get his mind moving. "Sammy, we've got to get you a shower." He finally decided on. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it would do for the second.

Sam looked down at the clothes that he had been wearing for several days and then back up at his brother. "Yeah. I think that is a good idea." Sam said slowly.

"Come on buddy, let me help you stand up."

"But your hand…." Sam said indicating the fingers that had bled through the make shift bandage.

"It's no big deal. Just lost a couple of fingernails. Not like it hasn't happened before."

"You need to put antibiotic cream on it. You can't let it get infected."

"Sam. We need to worry about you, not me." Dean said and tried not to choke up, this was the first time in almost a year that Sammy had worried about someone other than himself, and it was emotional for Dean.

"If I don't worry about you, who does?" And both of them stared at each other. A flood of memories of the last several months washing over him, moments of Dean in pain, and Sam not caring, even getting impatient with Dean's pain, his suffering, his anything really. And Dean realized in that instant that most of the time, when Sam didn't care, no one cared, and both of them had to swallow past the lump of emotions that were sitting in their throats.

"I'll be fine." Dean managed.

Sam swallowed. His brain was a buzz, there was a constant stream of thoughts and emotions running in a constant parade through his mind and he was desperately trying to organize them enough to speak.

"No." He swallowed. "No, you aren't okay. We need to take care of your hand. Then I'll get a shower." Sam tried. Dean shook his head. Sam closed his eyes, frustration closing in. "No. Damnit Dean. Let me do this. I need to do something….something….." Sam was at a loss for words. It was so hard to construct intelligent sentences.

Dean watched his brother, scrutinized him and understood what was going through his head, he knew what it felt like to come back from Hell, and knew what it felt like to want to do something, anything, to force his mind to focus on something other than the flashes of pain, destruction, smells, all of it. He knew how fast Sam's mind must be running, knew how wrecked the boy had to be. He had been that wrecked, he had been that out of it when he came back, and he hadn't had to spend time inside of Lucifer's cage.

Dean lightly reached out, tried to ignore the flinch, and grabbed a hold of Sam's shoulders, steadied him and then searched for his eyes and grabbed them with his own and said, "I understand Sammy. But, I'm not letting you near any open wound of mine smelling like that. First, a shower, then you can do whatever amateur doctoring you want." He paused and then said, "Okay Sammy?"

Sam nodded and looked away. "Good. Come on buddy; let's get you into the shower." Dean stood and reached out his hand to his brother. Sam looked at the calloused hand, and tentatively reached out his own, took Dean's and allowed Dean to help him up. Dean pushed him towards the bathroom, and along the way took towels out of the hall closet, and every time Sam faltered a little bit, Dean was there with a hand on his back, encouraging Sam forward, and the short distance to the bathroom was accomplished. Dean turned on the water, checked the temperature, and then turned to his brother.

"There you go Sammy. Strip down and get it done. I'll be waiting when you're done."

Dean moved past his brother and out of the room when Sam turned and said, "You won't go far will you?" His eyes were so scared that they pierced right through Dean, and Dean could have sworn that Sam was five years old again, scared that Dean would go out the door and disappear like Dad always did.

"I'll be right outside the door. I won't leave you Sammy. I didn't before, and I won't now." The weight of that statement hung over both brothers and Sam nodded.

It turned out that Sam couldn't handle Dean being so far away that he was outside of the bathroom, so when Bobby heard the water running, and hurried to the bathroom, he found Dean sitting on the closed lid of the toilet starring at the wall while his younger brother took a shower.

Dean turned and looked up at Bobby. "Dean?" Sam called.

"I haven't moved Sammy. I'm right here."

"He's…?" Bobby started in a whisper.

Dean nodded and gave him sad eyes. "He realized that this isn't hell."

"Who is out there Dean?" Sam asked in a fearful voice.

"It's Bobby. Sam." Dean said.

"Are you sure it is really Bobby?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, he called me an idjit not too long ago, so yeah, I don't think even the devil can make someone deliver the word idjit with such a wide range of emotions as the real Bobby Singer."

Dean nodded to Bobby and said, "I'll bring him down after he smells decent." Bobby nodded, relief and tension mixed up on the elder hunter's face.

"I'll make him some supper." Dean nodded and turned his attention back to the shower curtain.

SNSNSNSNSN

After Sam's shower, Sam was shaking violently, and Dean didn't know what it was from, and God knew the possibilities were endless.

"Sammy, I'm going to go get some clean clothes for you. I won't go father than our room. I promise. Just call out whenever you need to. I'll answer, I promise." Sam sucked in his bottom lip, bit down, and nodded.

Sam only needed eleven reassurance calls from Dean in the forty second run for clothes. Sam looked sheepish when Dean came back and handed him his jeans, underclothes and shirts. "I'm sorry." He said. It was words like that that made Dean happy and sad all at the same time. Robosammy was no more, he could feel, he could empathize, but at the same time he had to suffer under the weight of all he had done, and all that his body had done with his soul MIA.

Dean shook his head. "It's not a problem Sammy. It's my job. It's okay." Sam nodded and Dean left the bathroom, leaned against the wall next to it while Sammy hurried and got dressed. "The brush is in there. Use it." Dean said softly. Sam swallowed, he hadn't intended on doing that, he wanted out of the bathroom, he wanted to be next to Dean again, but Dean was right. He had to be a human being again. He took the brush, and like a child flopped the brush over his wet hair, and then when the job was half done he put it down, he wasn't patient enough to brush his entire head full of hair, and suddenly he had so much that it would be impossible to brush all of it. Sam started to leave the bathroom again, and Dean called. "Brush your teeth. You have to brush your teeth Sammy. Bobby's spare toothbrush is in the cabinet. You have to take care of yourself buddy. You have to."

It took all of Sam's remaining patience to brush his teeth for thirty seconds. And he hurried out of the bathroom. "Okay. You need your hands fixed." Sam said, eager to be close to his brother, eager to be doing something that didn't' require looking at his own body, something that required him to focus and concentrate on something other than his own thoughts and himself.

"You sure you're up to that Sammy? Bobby is fixing dinner for you."

"Tell him not to. I'm not hungry."

"But I am buddy." That stopped Sam in his tracks, he wanted to please his brother, wanted to make sure that he ate, make sure that he was okay, but at the same time he didn't want to be sociable to Bobby, he didn't want to look the older man in the eye after all that he had done to him before….

Sam nodded. "Okay. Let me fix your fingers." Dean nodded.

"Okay. Let's get that done."

The first aid kit was found with little difficulty. And Sam delved into it with practices precision, and he pulled Dean's hand to him gently, and unwound the bandages and when Dean flinched even slightly, Sam looked up with empathy and compassion and apologized for hurting him. Dean had to turn away, tears were slipping out of his eyes despite his best efforts, his Sammy was home, after almost two years, he had his brother back, he had his emo, wussy, gently, caring, self-sacrificing, brother back and it was hard to keep the emotions at bay.

Sam tapped the top of Dean's hand when he was done. "Done." Dean took a deep breath trying to clean his voice enough to speak.

He turned to Sam, "Thanks Sammy. It's perfect." And despite the pain, the angst, and the eventual fall out. Right now, everything was perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean knew that the perfection wasn't meant to last. Knew it with everything in his heart, mind and soul, his return from hell had been like this, the first day or two a confusion of images and sounds and emotions, but nothing that would cripple him, nothing that would make him fall apart or wish that he could stick an ice pick through his eye. Nope. Not the first days, it came later, it encroached on his dreams first, and then it started to reach it's nasty claw like hand into his day and hook in and cause the heart to pound and the fear to soar. It wouldn't take long, and Dean knew it. He knew that this perfection was momentary, he knew that better than his own name, and he wished, fervently wished, that he could change that for his brother, make it permanent, make this perfection rock solid so that Sam would never have to experience the pain, fear and suffering that he had had to endure.

So on the third night of their stay at Bobby's, that was when the first nightmare work Sam, and that perfection was shattered.

Sam was used to nightmares, they had plagued him most of his life, but this one was the worst he had ever had, it was worse than the ones that were nothing more than visions disguised as dreams. These were vivid and disorienting. They were so real that when he woke up he wasn't sure that he wasn't in hell trapped in the cage waiting to be kicked around some more by the evil twins.

"Sammy?" Came an alert Dean from the bed next to him.

Sam was too busy trying to catch his breath and to focus to answer him. Dean was at his bed in a flash, warm hands on his chest holding him upright and green eyes searching for hazel, trying to make the connection, trying to make Sam realize that he was here, home, not in the depths of the earth, trapped in a cage with the worst sibling fight in the universe.

"Sammy I'm right here." He said again trying to get his brother to focus. Sam finally looked up, looked into Dean's eyes and nodded.

"You never told me." Sam managed after he caught his breath enough to talk. Dean reached over to the nightstand and poured Sam a glass of water and handed it to him, and Sam drank greedily from the cup.

"I didn't tell you what?"

"What it was like…down there…."

"Dude, I'm pretty sure my experience is nothing like yours." Sam gave a half smile. "The nightmare pretty bad?"

"It's not so much images, but…." Sam reached for the words.

"Sounds…" Dean supplied.

Sam nodded and said, "Smells…."

"Feelings…" Dean added.

"Touches…." Sam said with a swipe of his hands down the length of the blanket

"Pain…." They said in unison. Dean looked at Sam and Sam looked at Dean and they both broke out into a grin.

"Yeah. It's rough." Dean said after the moment faded.

"How much rougher does it get?" Sam asked, and it reminded Dean of the child that he had once been asking when the bullies would stop treating him like he was a freak, or how much longer it would take before their father came back and stayed, the kid always asked the hard questions, the questions that Dean didn't know how to answer and he didn't have an appropriate lie on standby. This was one of those times that Sam was requiring him to tell the truth, and it wasn't an easy truth, it was one of those truths that hurt to share and hurt to hear.

"They get pretty rough Sammy. Pretty damn hard, and there will be days where suicide looks pretty damn good, but the only reason you don't, is because you are afraid that you will end up right back in hell and the torture will be there again and there will be no chance of it stopping." Dean bit the inside of his cheek and got hold of himself again. "I'm still not over it. I still have dreams. Dogs still make me nervous. Sounds make me want to jump right out of my skin. I've just learned to live with it. It's hard Sammy. It's really hard."

Sam looked up at his brother through hair and lashes and said, "Why couldn't you have just lied to me and told me that everything would be fine."

"Sorry man, can't." Sam nodded.

"I'm going to try to sleep again."

"Good plan." Both men resituated on their respective beds and Dean watched as his brother struggled to get comfortable and clear his mind of the images that plagued him earlier. And not for the first time did he wish that he could take the pain away, that he could make this better, that Sammy wouldn't have to remember all of this crap that went along with hell and the like. It wasn't fair.


End file.
